DARIUS
Humans always assume power comes from noise. From shouting orders, waving weapons, or making speeches no one asked to hear.
Real power is quiet.
I stepped out of the English house and breathed in the cold air. Nomi's scent still hung there..enticing, warm and unapologetically alive. It almost annoyed me how quickly it affected me.
So this is the girl fate finally handed me.
For months, I'd watched her. I dislike surprises, so observing her was only practical. And she made it surprisingly easy. Humans rarely look at the edges of their world. They think the dark is empty.
She fascinated me.
Not because she was human; that usually diminished interest. Most humans were fragile, loud, graceless things. But she... she carried herself differently. With a natural balance. Every movement full of confidence and grace. Nomi English knew exactly who she was and she never apologized for it. That alone set her apart from most of her kind.
And beauty—yes, she possessed that too. It wasn't the fleeting prettiness of youth, but a hard, perfect symmetry that bordered on magnificent. Her curves were an insult to modesty. I had spent months observing the lush, high swell of her breasts that strained the cheap cotton of her shirts, the narrow, wicked indentation of her waist, and the heavy, tempting flare of her hips. She looked like a woman built for being noticed and entirely uninterested in the attention she received.
But it was her face that held me longest. Her features were sharp, yet perfectly feminine: a precise jawline, a delicate nose, and a mouth designed for both defiance and sin. She carried herself with a calm, feminine certainty in every glance that suggested she already knew she was desired and refused to let it define her.
Most women preened. She didn't. She simply existed, and the world bent around her presence. This was the strength I craved to dismantle. The utter confidence I was destined to crush beneath my hand.
When she opened the door earlier, it was that intoxicating scent that hit me first.
Gods.
It had taken centuries for anything to surprise me, but that first breath was a shock of perfect, raw desire. It was pure, irresistible need wrapped in danger. It was the deepest, darkest lust I had ever experienced condensed into a single inhalation. The scent was an intoxicating drug that demanded immediate violation.
It had taken centuries to feel anything that strong. Her scent was potent enough to make my fangs ache, rich enough to stir cravings I had buried long ago. I had prepared myself for a mere girl. A debt. A name on a contract.
But Nomi English was a collision.
And when she lifted those furious eyes to mine, when she glared instead of falling apart, something inside me shifted with a quiet, decisive click.
Mine.
Not because the contract said so.
Not because her ancestor had signed her life away.
Not because her father trembled before me.
Mine because she met my gaze like I was a storm she refused to bow to.
I have had brides offered to me over the centuries. Virgins dressed in silk, witches who sought power, noblewomen who wanted immortality. I turned them all away. They bored me. They were predictable. They broke too easily. Nomi English would not break; she would burn. And I would be the one to extinguish her fire.
I understood why fate had waited four centuries for a daughter of the English line.
She was worth the wait.
Her ancestors had been formidable. Hunters, the most ruthless of their era. Elias English had bargained with blood to save them, thinking he had won mercy.
How foolish humans could be.
A debt sealed in blood is not mercy. It is a chain. And I had come to claim the end of it.
When her father bowed, offering the dowry he had known his entire life he would one day present, it had not interested me. Wealth meant nothing. Land meant nothing. The box could have held ash.
It was her I had come for.
And the moment she ran?
I smiled.
No woman brought to a Dreymont willingly was ever worthy of the name. A bride who does not fight is a burden. A bride who does not break rules is forgettable. But a bride who bolts into the night, heart pounding with terror and defiance—
She was exactly the creature I had hoped she would be.
Before following her, I gave her parents their final instructions. Nomi would not be returning to this home. Their daughter's marriage bound them to the Dreymont name now, and they were under my protection only so long as they remained obedient.
Robert English spoke first, "Please," he had said quietly, "don't hurt her. She's... she's our only child."
"She is not a child," I corrected "And she is not yours anymore."
Her mother's voice cracked. "She's scared."
"She should be," I replied. "Fear keeps humans alive."
Robert's face had twisted with guilt and shame colliding. "We did everything the contract demanded. We upheld our part. You have what you came for."
I stepped closer. He tensed but didn't move.
"Do you think I came here for your compliance, Human?" I asked. "I came for her. Not for you. Not for your meaningless offerings."
Her mother's breath shuddered. "Will she... will she suffer?"
"That depends entirely on her," I said simply. "If she obeys, she will live in luxury. If she resists, she will learn quickly."
Her father shook his head, voice trembling. "Nomi isn't obedient. She's stubborn. She—she won't bow."
"Good," I said. "I prefer a bride with a spine."
Her mother's shoulders sagged, anger breaking through her fear. "She deserved a normal life."
"She was never going to have one," I replied. "The moment she was born, her path was written. You both knew this."
Robert flinched, shame swallowing him whole. "We hoped—"
"Humans always do," I cut in. "Hope is your favorite delusion."
Silence fell, thick and suffocating.
I glanced toward the door, where the cold wind still carried the faintest trace of Nomi's scent.
"I will give you one mercy," I said. "Your daughter will live. She will be treasured. Protected."
I paused.
"And remade."
Her mother's eyes filled, but she held her ground. Brave of her. Useless, but brave.
Her father looked up at me once more. "Will we ever see her again?"
I studied them for a moment, then answered honestly.
"No."
Eleanor sobbed, burying her face in Robert's chest.
I turned toward the front door.
"Our business is concluded," I said. "Your line has paid its debt. Your daughter is now under Dreymont rule."
I stepped into the night, my voice the last thing they heard.
"If you love her, pray she keeps running."
I dismissed them and turned toward the open door, her scent trailing out into the darkness like a ribbon daring me to follow.
Ten minutes.
That was the courtesy I granted her. A rare thing, if one knew my reputation. I wanted to see how far she'd go. How fast she'd try to outrun the inevitable. I wanted to savor the hunt.
Because make no mistake—
This was a hunt.
Not for a meal.
For a bride.
And she was proving herself worthy with every desperate stride.
Her scent was sharper now, spiked with fear and determination. The mixture stirred something ancient in me. Hunger and the thrill of pursuit. My fangs itched behind my lips.
Not for blood.
For the claim.
For the moment I would take hold of her shoulders, tilt her trembling chin up, and watch terror shift into that perfect, unmistakable realization:
'Nothing in your life will ever belong to you again but me.'
That was the truth of a Dreymont union. And she would learn it soon enough.
I stepped out into the night, inhaling her trail again.
She was fast.
Good.
Very good.
The corners of my mouth curved.
Time was up.
It was time to collect my runaway bride.